


so you can know peace

by honeyvoiced



Series: ❝ been here before ❞ [5]
Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: 4 Times 1 Time, Angst, Bats, Childhood Trauma, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Mice, Needles, Vermin, author takes creative liberties, girlfriends protecting each other, mild misuse of prescription drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 04:52:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18113666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyvoiced/pseuds/honeyvoiced
Summary: The four times Fallon was scared, and the one time that Kirby was.





	so you can know peace

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you Amanda! And thank you to Britt, Hope, Dom, & Gil for always supporting me flinging snippets of fic into the groupchat and begging for feedback. 
> 
> This fic sort of ran away from me a little bit. I guess it could be categorized as OOC because it's a lot of personal interpretation and... artistic liberty.

 

 

Thunder always put Kirby to sleep. When she was much younger, her father used to always seem to breathe a sigh of relief whenever it started to storm. It was a sure promise that no matter how wound up throughout the day his little girl got - which was usually _a lot_ \- she would be tucked in at a reasonable hour, and would usually sleep through the night with no problem. In fact, the only way to keep her from taking a nap during an afternoon storm - and throwing her sleep schedule off - was to let her run outside to play in it, herself. Rain softened the dirt in the yard into the perfect consistency to slip around in a pair of hand-me-down rubber boots, and every loud clap of thunder always startled her into a fit of giggling, not worry. The rainbows that followed would have her standing out on the patio for hours, head tilted so far back to stare up at the sky in wonder that it was a miracle she didn’t have a permanent stress injury.

 

Even now, as an adult with less interest in playing in the mud and pulling worms out of the flower beds, Kirby enjoyed thunderstorms. Curling up with a new movie, hot popcorn, a soft blanket with the rain against the giant manor windows was a recipe for a perfect afternoon.

 

Not only had her choice in thunderstorm activities changed over time, but the way that she sensed them coming in, did, too. Each and every time that thunder started to roll in the distance, there was a sudden shift in the energy in the manor. The first time that Kirby noticed it, she thought it was the electricity. An old house, with old wiring - maybe the oncoming storm really was setting her hair on end, shooting charges through the furniture and imperceptibly shaking the walls in a way that made people nervous.

 

She felt fine, though. Funny.

 

Clearly, Fallon didn’t feel the same way.

 

She would storm through the house, announcing wherever she paused by groaning loudly before the loud click-click of her stilettos led her elsewhere. Usually she left Kirby to herself when she was in this specific mood, opting to instead be snarky to everyone else that she encountered, letting her girlfriend off of the hook.

 

The first time that she came to pause in the doorway of the smaller den, taking in the sight of Kirby curled up with Bo in a mountain of throw blankets on the floor next to the couch, Kirby noticed the pill box for the first time.

 

She didn’t want to judge - after all, she knew that Fallon _had_ had a fairly close brush with death, or rather, a concussion-induced-coma during a particularly bad thunderstorm several months earlier. Kirby was no stranger to the post-traumatic stress, and didn’t feel in a good enough position to give advice, either.

 

Instead, she perked up and pushed one of the closer blankets back welcomingly, patting the spot beside her.

 

“Come watch with me. You gonna share with the class?” she nodded toward the tiny ornate pill box as Fallon tucked it away, stepping closer.

 

Fallon snorted, rolling her eyes, and Kirby abruptly remembered her bad mood.

 

Settling in next to the redhead, she stretched out and toed off her uncomfortable shoes, immediately tucking her legs under the blankets next to Kirby’s.

 

“Jesus, your feet are _freezing,”_ Kirby hissed, but instead of the usual snappy retort, Fallon just fell sideways into her, pressing her cheek to her arm and sighing heavily.

 

“What’re you watching?” her voice was croaky - Kirby recognized the sound perfectly: medication-dry and underused. She made a small sympathetic noise under her breath before she could stop it, but Fallon either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

 

“Final Destination.”

 

Fallon made a noise of distaste, but did nothing to leave the makeshift theater that Kirby had set up. Instead, she shifted down and pushed Kirby’s legs around until she was sitting how Fallon wanted, and tucked her head and shoulders into her lap.

 

She took another pill at the first flash of lightning that lit up the den, and Kirby softly took the box away from her before she could tuck it back away under the blankets.

 

Tilting her head back in confusion to try to look the other woman in the eye, she sighed and closed her eyes when Kirby just leaned down and kissed her temple in response.

 

“That’s enough,” she said, lightly, “I don’t need you all stoned and making me explain every part of the movie to you.”

 

That drew a tiny chuckle out of the brunette, already beginning the calming-down part of her reaction cycle to every new reminder of the storm outside.

 

“Right, because it’s such a complicated, intricate -” She cut herself off with a yelp, though it was much more muffled than her usual ‘startled noise’ that Kirby usually liked to mock her for. Louder than a gasp but softer than a scream, she sat up quickly and winced away from the direction of the window as the room was lit up quickly once again.

 

Kirby stared at her, her eyes flickering from the terrified look on her face to the way that every muscle down her arms to the ends of her fingers seemed tense. It was familiar - she’d felt that way herself more than her fair share of times in her life, but she froze, unsure how to proceed for a moment.

 

Before she could _ask_ , Fallon practically pounced on her, crawling across her lap and reaching for the pill box.

 

“Fallon -” Kirby twisted away, doubling down on her grip and holding it away from the brunette, even when she grabbed at her sleeve almost animalistically. “Oh my god, enough, stop, I’ll - I’m giving it back.”

 

Fallon glared at her as she handed the pill box back over with so much heat in her eyes that Kirby felt her fight or flight reflex kick in.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Fallon snatched the pills away from her roughly and sat back on her knees, popping the top open and beginning to shake the almost empty container into her hand before she stopped.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Kirby’s eyes jumped from her empty hand to her face, but the other woman wouldn’t meet her eye. Recapping the box without taking another pill, Fallon tucked it away and then apologetically reached over and smoothed Kirby’s sleeve that she’d been pulling on, gently.

 

“No, it’s alright,” Kirby gestured for her to lay back down, and she did, very slowly. “I know about… the last time.”

 

Fallon’s shoulders tensed a little but she stayed in her spot, shifting just a little to get more comfortable before reaching over and pausing the movie.

 

“It’s not - it’s not that. I’ve never liked it.”

 

As if to substitute for the pill that she had decided on not having, Kirby gently rubbed the back of two knuckles across Fallon’s neck for her when she began to tense up at the rolling build up of more thunder in the distance.

 

“I didn’t know that,” she pointed out, letting go of her neck to begin working at gently taking her hair out for her.

 

“There’s no reason for me to just… advertise it.” Fallon replied, lifting her head a little and shaking out her now loose hair.

 

“I know. But I’m glad I know, now.” Kirby slid her fingers into her hair, gently dragging her nails across her scalp and smiling at the near-purring sound it produced from the other woman. “It might help to try to sleep.”

 

Her suggestion clearly worked, because Fallon was asleep before the movie ended, her hand that had been gripping Kirby’s calf in worry finally letting go and dropping dead to the blankets under them.

 

She was no less cranky when Kirby ended her nap for her, hours later. Groaning loudly in response to her girlfriend whispering sweetly for her to wake up, Fallon rolled painfully onto her back across the other woman’s legs and squinted backwards at the window questioningly.

 

“It’s not raining anymore. C’mere.” Kirby nudged her to get up, standing up herself first and holding her hand out.

 

She led Fallon through the kitchen and out the double doors that led to the deck top spice garden.

 

Fallon continued to squint grumpily, protesting about the wet wood under their feet and the sunlight bothering her eyes until Kirby let go of her hand and stood back.

 

Arcing over the garden, almost impossibly, was the closest and most clear rainbow Fallon had ever seen in her life. It looked almost artificial, but the smell of fresh grass and every flower in the yard down below them blooming to fresh life was a reminder that her senses weren’t tricking her.

 

“This is _so_ corny, you are _obnoxious,_ you know that?” She whirled around to face Kirby, who only laughed, a mock-distraught look passing across her face.

 

“I was _trying_ to make you feel better!”

 

Fallon just scoffed, shaking her head, but the smile didn’t leave her face as she turned to face the garden again.

 

“Oh, you dropped these, before I forget.” Kirby stepped up closer to her side and held the tiny pill box out to her, smiling.

 

Fallon glanced at the box and did a double take, closing Kirby’s fingers around it and pushing it back to her gently.

 

“You hang onto it for a bit.”

 

 

 

 

Fallon was already crying by the time Kirby boarded the Carrington private jet - or rather, as close to crying as Kirby really ever saw her. Shouldering off her bag and handing it to the waiting attendant, Kirby made her way toward the back of the vessel and put her hands on her hips, squinting down at her girlfriend in confusion.

 

Only then did she realize that Fallon was staring, wide-eyed and lip quivering, at the small tv screen pulled out from the wall on the swivelling arm.

 

“What… are you watching?” It was hard to keep a straight face, but she put in a solid effort.

 

Fallon sniffled once, lifting her head toward Kirby but leaving her gaze on the screen for an extra moment before finally looking her in the eye.

 

“ _Suspicion_.”

 

Kirby leaned forward to look at the screen, and scoffed softly.

 

“I don’t understand how you can get so into those old movies. I can barely tell what’s happening half of the time.”

 

“Maybe that’s because you talk too much,” Fallon suggested, her tone light but the snark unmistakable. Kirby fixed her face into a pout, and the brunette sighed in defeat. “Fine. Come here.”

 

Tossing back part of her furry throw blanket that had been covering both seats, Fallon made room for Kirby to sit and the two of them immediately melted into a single pile of limbs. The redhead smiled, slipping an arm across Fallon’s waist and leaning into her side with a content sigh. She’d watch paint dry for Fallon if it meant the two of them being cuddled up like this.

 

“So Cary Grant is -”

 

“Which one is Cary Grant?”

 

Fallon sighed very loudly.

 

“ _That_ is Cary Grant,” she was using her patiently-impatient voice, but Kirby recognized the underlying enthusiasm in her tone. “And he’s like this… badass, ladykiller, rugged sex-god, right? But then -”

 

“ _Him_?” Kirby pointed at the screen, just to clarify. Her brows knitted together, and she tilted her head back to look at Fallon.

 

“Yes, _him,_ what are you pretending to be shocked for? You have terrible taste.”

 

“I think that says more about you than it does about me, doesn’t it?”

 

Kirby’s grin spread slowly across her face as she watched the realization dawn on Fallon’s.

 

“Okay, you know what -” the brunette started to protest, but she immediately stopped when the black and white image on the screen was replaced with the automated animation and logo, introducing the safety features of the aircraft and how to properly locate the life vests in an emergency situation.

 

“Guess it’s go-time,” Kirby sighed, sitting herself up properly and all but tucking Fallon in with the rest of the blanket she had been borrowing. Situating herself in her own spot and doing her belt up, Kirby leaned over closer to Fallon to watch as the movie faded back onto the screen, her interest now piqued. “Keep going. Catch me up.”

 

Fallon continued her explanation of the movie up to the point where Kirby had joined her, her voice shaking a little and the two of them clutching each other’s hands tightly under the blanket as the plane lifted off into the air.

 

Kirby had never been a fan of the take-off or landing part of flying. She could sleep through hours and hours in flight without a complaint - except maybe boredom - and even the occasional bout of turbulence or bad weather wasn’t enough to bother her. The drop in her stomach as they left the ground or the concern that she would bite down and take half of her own tongue off in the landing were both feelings she could do without, though.

 

Fallon wasn’t much of a fan of the take-off, either, but she could relax for the entire flight, or sometimes even fall asleep, depending on how far they flew. That was, of course, only if the flight was smooth enough - those ones when it was were Kirby’s favourite.

 

On the flight to Mykonos for Kirby’s birthday, Fallon had fallen asleep in the first hour and not even stirred at the storm that they passed through. It gave Kirby time to catch up on her Netflix queue, and take approximately two hundred snapchat selfies to send back to their friends at home.

 

This time, however, the sky had different plans.

 

Kirby had only just started to fall asleep to _Suspicion,_ resting gently on Fallon’s shoulder, when she felt the slightest drop in her stomach. She would have passed it off as a hiccup if Fallon hadn’t suddenly gone as tense as a guitar string and sat up so quickly that she nearly tossed Kirby back into her own seat.

 

“Why?” the redhead groaned quietly, grumpily sitting up properly and fidgeting with her half of the blanket.

 

“What was that?” Fallon was looking out the window as she spoke, as if expecting that they’d hit something mid-air. “Did you feel that? It was like we hit a brick wall.”

 

Kirby resisted the urge to roll her eyes and leaned across Fallon’s lap, reaching out and snapping the curtain down over the window and throwing them into semi-darkness.

 

“The plane barely moved. That’s how wind works.” She didn’t mean to be snappy - any other time, she would have been much more sympathetic to the other woman’s nerves - but it wasn’t every other time that she was half-asleep and then jolted back to the boring reality that she was stuck in an airplane.

 

Fallon stared at the closed curtain for a moment longer and then sighed, turning back to the small television screen defeatedly. She was still tense - Kirby could feel it from where she was in her own seat - but the effort was there, and her girlfriend could sense it.

 

“Are you good, now?” she asked, not intending for her tone to be as rough as it was, but not making any effort to take it back.

 

Fallon seemed to tense up even more, despite the fact that the plane hadn’t jolted again.

 

Feeling guilty for making her act like she was alright when she clearly wasn’t, Kirby reached over and rested one hand on her knee - still too annoyed to cuddle back up in truce - and continued to watch the movie, now that she was alert enough to do so.

 

When the plane hit another bout of wind, Kirby felt it herself, and wasn’t nearly as surprised when Fallon stood up out of her seat so suddenly that she nearly hit her head on the overhead bin.

 

“Okay. You felt that, right?” The plane rocked gently again, and she grabbed the nearest seat back so roughly, Kirby was sure she was going to puncture the leather with her nails.

 

“Yes, I felt it. Just turbulence. Sit.” Kirby tried to speak slowly, calmly, and gestured to the spot next to her again. “Standing up isn’t going to make it any easier.”

 

Perhaps the next rock that the plane took had been much sharper than the previous few, or maybe Fallon’s reaction to the whole situation was beginning to have some sort of mass hysteria effect on Kirby, but as the plane took a sudden dip down, and then to the left, Kirby squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the armrest of her own seat for a moment.

 

“Oh my god,” Fallon’s voice was practically a whimper, now, watching the look on Kirby’s face. “That’s not _turbulence,_ are we out of fuel or something? Going through some kind of dead zone?”

 

Gripping the back of the next seat and wall-walking along them to the next open window, Fallon peered out into the mass of clouds - and not much else.

 

“You sound crazy,” Kirby reasoned, though it seemed her word choice was entirely wrong, as Fallon whirled around to face her and glowered. “What do you want me to do, go bother the pilot?”

 

“ _I_ sound crazy?” It was obvious she intended to follow it up with something scathing, but another soft bump made her slow, shaky steps toward her previous seat turn into a hurried stumble.

 

“Okay,” Kirby tried to return the soothing tone to her voice from earlier, getting up herself and gently taking Fallon by the arms to almost force her back into her own seat. “I’m going to get you a drink. Don’t move.”

 

Taking a minute of quiet as she helped herself to the mini-bar, Kirby took a few deep breaths and shook off the excess nervousness that Fallon had seemed to rub off on her. The plane shook - not nearly as abruptly as the earlier few bumps - and Kirby steadied her balance without much of a second thought about it, continuing to pour.

 

“Two fingers, neat?” she called over her shoulder, setting her own drink aside and pulling another glass over for Fallon’s.

 

“ _Maybe three?”_ came the other woman’s voice, a little muffled and more than a little meek.

 

Pouring generously into the next glass, Kirby set the decanter back into the cupboard and clicked it shut, turning around with both drinks in hand.

 

Fallon was coiled up under the blanket in her own seat, heels and blazer abandoned on the ground in front of her. With just her feet and the top half of her face poking out from the throw, she resembled a frightened turtle, and it took all of Kirby’s willpower not to laugh at her.

 

“Here,” she offered, holding the fuller of the two tumblers out. Fallon’s hand snaked out from the blanket pile and clutched it like it were a safety rail, only then worming the rest of her head out to take a little sip. “It’s… sort of like thunder you can feel, right?”

 

Fallon turned to Kirby as she settled into her own seat.

 

“Tell me what I can do to make you feel better.”

 

Reaching out and giving Fallon’s foot a tiny, reassuring squeeze, she watched her and dipped her head to catch her eye a little more clearly.

 

Fallon seemed to think on that, for a moment, before weakly, defeatedly admitting, “There’s nothing.”

 

But it wasn’t an ‘I’m fine, don’t worry about it’ nothing, that would have been reassuring to hear. Instead it was an ‘I need to ride this out for as long as I have to, because there’s nothing anyone can do about it’ nothing. Kirby felt her heart fall as the realization came over her, and she took a sip of her own drink to try to stall to figure out her next plan of reassurance.

 

“There’s… nothing,” Fallon repeated, seeming to be trying to forcefully move herself into the ‘acceptance’ stage of her cycle of panic. “I mean, unless you want to land the plane. Or stop the weather. Or just… knock me out.”

 

Kirby could hear the almost-playfulness in her tone, but didn’t have the heart to react. “I can’t do any of that. But I can finish your movie, with you.”

 

Fallon looked up from where she was staring into her glass and caught Kirby’s eye momentarily.

 

“Yeah. We can finish the movie.” she held an arm out for Kirby to assume the position, but she stayed stiff - Kirby could feel it even as they unpaused the television and continued on with the story.

 

Every few moments she felt the brunette go tense under her - whether there was a moment of turbulence or not - but no matter how much she tried to take her hand or kiss her arm to remind her that she was there, nothing seemed to make her relax.

 

The landing was rough, but it was reassuring to Kirby when Fallon still reached over and took her hand under the blanket before the wheels touched the ground. It was a nice reminder that it was the stress that was making them both feel so on edge, not each other.

 

The television screen faded from the looping logo it had been playing previously, once the movie ended, and alerted them that it was safe to move around freely. Fallon mimicked the alert sound and Kirby laughed, feeling immediately lighter already.

 

“Thank you for keeping me safe from breaking my teeth on wheels down,” Kirby turned to her girlfriend, who was already untangling herself from the blanket. “I don’t know if I could fly without you.”

 

She could - but there was a certain look of realization that passed of Fallon’s face at the words. A silent understanding that she didn’t _need_ to be embarrassed about anything - and that whenever she did feel too small, if Kirby couldn’t make her feel bigger, she’d make herself small too.

 

“I don’t know about all of that,” Fallon hummed, but the smile had already made itself at home on her face and wasn’t going anywhere. “Come on, I need actual food.”

 

The two of them stood up, and Kirby patted her pockets down in faux-confusion for a moment.

 

“What is it?” Fallon stopped in the aisle and turned to her, brows knitting together in concern.

 

“I think I forgot my phone charger. Think we could just turn around and get it? The flight is only like, two and a half hours -”

 

“Asshole,” Fallon hissed, but she had to turn away to hide the laugh that was trying to bubble up.

 

Laughing herself and following after her, Kirby took her bag from the attendant and headed down the stairs.

 

 

 

 

Kirby had only just fallen asleep when Fallon shook her awake again.

 

“Whaddizit?” Blearily opening her eyes and squinting in the dark room, Kirby glanced around and then focused on the outline of her girlfriend next to her. It took her a moment to remember that they were spending the night in Kirby’s room, for once - a probationary trial.

 

“Did you hear that?”

 

“Obviously not,” Kirby sighed, sitting up herself, and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Hear what?”

 

Fallon was completely still, eyes wide and lips pursed in concentration. She reminded Kirby of an alert cat - no movement in her entire body save for her eyes, darting back and forth in the dark.

 

“ _There!_ ”

 

This time, Kirby heard it: a trickling sound from across her bedroom, against the wall.

 

“It’s probably just a leaky pipe, I’ll tell my dad in the morning,” Kirby groaned quietly, turning away from the other woman and pulling her pillow back up under her head as she settled in once more.

 

It was mercifully quiet for a moment.

 

“Well what if it’s a mouse?” Fallon’s voice had a hint of whining buried in it, and Kirby immediately knew that she would not be going back to sleep any time soon.

 

“What if it is?” she snarked back, clutching her pillow more tightly to her cheek as if willing herself to pass out to avoid the discussion.

 

Fallon was quiet again - Kirby could almost hear the gears turning in her brain.

 

“I don’t _want_ it in here, I -”

 

“Have you considered asking him nicely to leave?”

 

Fallon huffed out a tiny irritated breath, and Kirby rolled over to face her properly, though it was hard to make her out.

 

“Come here,” she patted the bed next to her, trying to coax her girlfriend into laying back down. “I’ll tell my dad in the morning. Leaky pipe _or_ terrifying killer mouse. Now _please,_ can we go back to sleep?”

 

Fallon slowly laid back down but when she didn’t immediately untense, Kirby groaned.

 

“Hey, Mr. Mouse that may or may not exist?” she called softly into the room. Fallon tried to stifle a tiny chuckle and it immediately brought a grin to Kirby’s face. “Can you please stop scaring my girlfriend so she can sleep? So _I_ can sleep? Thank y-”

 

“I’m not _scared_!”

 

Kirby didn’t even have to lift her head to know the look of indignation and offense on Fallon’s face. It was one that she was familiar with, and often personally responsible for.

 

“Uh huh, and that’s why this conversation couldn’t wait until the morning?”

 

She could almost hear Fallon grind her teeth in frustration.

 

“I’m just saying, if it’s a mouse, you should know about it.”

 

“I’m sure he’s friendly,” Kirby yawned, tossing an arm lazily across Fallon’s waist and all but dragging her closer, “Maybe I’ll keep him.”

 

“Not if you ever want me to sleep in your bed again,” Fallon threatened.

 

“Fine, he can have your spot. Right here.” She patted the spot behind Fallon on the bed, knowing full-well that she was poking the bear, now.

 

Fallon tensed away from her hand, just a little, and let out a tiny nervous sound before following it up with a sound of disgust.

 

“Could you _be_ more immature?”

 

“I’m not scared of mice,” Kirby pointed out.

 

“Neither am I!” Fallon’s voice was gaining pitch and volume at an alarming rate, so Kirby reined in the mockery - if only for the sake of everyone else trying to sleep in the same wing.

 

“Okay, okay, shhh.” Kirby rubbed at the spot between her shoulder blades until she felt her physically relax, and then snuggled back under the sheets comfortably. “You probably scared him off, anyway. You pose an intimidating figure.”

 

That earned a tiny, reluctant laugh from the other woman, who seemed to be hell-bent on going to sleep annoyed.

 

“Sleep. I’ll protect you,” was Kirby’s last tease, sliding closer and closing her eyes finally.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re up early,” Kirby remarked, sitting up in bed and fighting the urge to close her eyes again when she accidentally looked over at the open window. Fallon stood before it, dancing around into a nightgown slip and searching for her slippers.

 

“It’s waking hours. I need coffee. And fuel.”

 

Locating her slippers and then sliding a robe up onto her shoulders and cinching it at the waist, Fallon looked expectantly over at Kirby and then cleared her throat.

 

“You going to breakfast like that?”

 

Glancing down at her oversized t-shirt and underwear combo, Kirby snorted and then swung her legs over the side of the bed to get up.

 

“I suppose I could wear something a little more appropriate.”

 

“You do that,” Fallon hummed, already scrolling through her phone. “And then you can talk to your dad about our leaky mouse pipe.”

 

That pulled a laugh from the redhead as she swung her wardrobe open to find an outfit. Before she could even pull a shirt from a hanger, there was a sharp scratch, followed by the sound of her mattress creaking behind her.

 

Frowning, Kirby glanced around at her feet and spotted a dropped earring that she must have kicked out of her way without noticing - the source of the scratching sound on the hardwood.

 

“I’ve been looking for this,” she mused, standing up once she’d picked it up and turning around, only to find Fallon fully standing on top of the bed, clutching one of the posts for balance. “What - what are you doing?”

 

“What is that?” Fallon sounded out of breath, despite how casual her words were.

 

“It’s… an earring that I thought I’d lost. Why are you - oh my _god,_ you were _really_ scared of that hypothetical mouse.”

 

Fallon paled a little, clearing her throat and looking down off the edge of the bed to be sure, before stepping down.

 

“I don’t have any particularly fond memories with… vermin.” Fallon admitted, tacking on a little, “I didn’t, for example, use a purse-full of them to try to save someone’s club opening.”

 

“I told you that in confidence,” Kirby reminded her, but she sounded more amused than upset.

 

“Right, well, there’s only so many mice you can find in your bathtub or lizards you can find under your pillow before the whole thing gets a little old.” Fallon hadn’t meant to sound cold, but the silent _Don’t mock me for this again_ was clear.

 

Kirby felt like her throat closed up for a moment, and Fallon seemed to see it on her face.

 

“That - I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well because of that stupid… mouse, pipe, whatever it was making that noise. It kept me up. You didn’t - _do_ anything. Honestly, it was years ago and it wouldn’t have been so effective if I didn’t already find them so… creepy.”

 

Fallon’s downplaying trailed off after an awkward moment, and the two of them stood next to the bed in silence for a moment, before Fallon crossed her arms and snapped.

 

“Oh my _god,_ Kirby, _what_?”

 

“I just -” her outburst seemed to have startled the redhead into actually vocalizing her thoughts. “I never apologized for that. Or any of it. I never… actually apologized.”

 

Fallon looked away.

 

“It isn’t -”

 

“No,” Kirby cut her off gently, stepping forward a little. “I spent so long trying to prove that I could be your friend… and everything else. I didn’t ever really tell you that I was sorry. So that’s what I’m doing now.”

 

Fallon looked her in the eye for a moment.

 

“Okay.” She glanced down at her hands, picking at her cuticle distractedly, “I wasn’t exactly roommate of the year to you, either. It isn’t like it was one-sided.”

 

“I also accept your apology,” Kirby smiled the tiniest bit, trying to lighten the moment.

 

Fallon chuckled, rolling her eyes.

 

“What’s that old… misogynistic thing that mothers tell their daughters? _That boy on the playground only picks on you because he has a crush on you._ ”

 

“Are you saying you were mean to me because you had a crush on me?” Kirby raised both eyebrows.

 

“No!” Fallon laughed, “I’m saying you were mean to _me_ because _you_ had a crush on me.”

 

Kirby rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling to herself.

 

“Whatever. I’ll meet you at breakfast, I apparently have to tell my father to order an exterminator.” she sighed, stepping closer to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek in parting.

 

“Or a plumber,” Fallon suggested, but Kirby waved her off as she turned to go.

  
“ _Wishful thinkin_ g!~”

 

 

 

 

By the time Kirby woke up, there seemed to be a full on family-and-staff emergency meeting happening in the front foyer.

 

“What is all of this?”

 

Approaching the semi-circle that was gathered around her father, Kirby stepped up beside Fallon and crossed her arms, preemptively defensive.

 

“It appears that your _leaking pipe_ was actually…”

 

“A _bat!_ ”

 

Anders was cut off by Sam, who leaned to look at her from Fallon’s other side.

 

Fallon winced at the sudden outburst, but Anders seemed unfazed.

 

“Cool,” Kirby smiled, oblivious. “Where is he, did you catch him? Can we take him outside? _Ooh_ can we name him?”

 

“If you catch it, or any of its probably family, you’re welcome to set it free wherever you like outside, and name it, if it suits you.” Anders glanced behind himself for a moment as the front door opened. “Right after you’ve had your shots.”

 

Fallon frowned, confused.

 

“I’ve… had them? I’m vaccinated.”

 

“For rabies?” Sam perked up, turning to her again. Kirby could only see her profile, but watched as the color drained from her face.

 

“I didn’t get bitten by a _bat,_ I think I’d remember.”

 

Kirby rolled her eyes, now.

 

“Good, because if you’d been bitten, there’d be a hell of a lot more shots where this one is coming from.” She gestured widely at the door as aides carrying coolers began to file in.

 

“I’ll show you where to set up,” Anders offered, striding away before Fallon could complain any further.

 

“This is _stupid_ , what happened to calling an exterminator?” Fallon whirled around to face Kirby, now, as if the entire thing were her fault.

 

“The exterminator doesn’t show up until you know what you have. And pest control said it’s a bat. Or _bats_. Plural.” Sam offered helpfully, from behind her, causing her to turn to him instead.

 

“Yeah, and until they actually get rid of it, this is the bat’s house.” Kirby grinned, twitching her eyebrows, “We’re just very annoying guests. And we’re ripe for rabies bites.”

 

Taking advantage of Fallon’s back being to her, Kirby reached over and pinched gently at her ribs, intending, at most, to draw out the startled squeak that she was _occasionally_ lucky enough to hear, but instead the other woman _screamed_ , jumping so hard that Kirby was surprised her heels didn’t leave the ground.

 

Rearing back in horror, Kirby bit her lip guiltily when Fallon whirled around to glare at her.

 

“Fallon, sorry, I -” she reached out in reassurance but Fallon slapped her hand away with a resounding _THWACK_ and twisted away before she could make contact.

 

“Don’t touch me!”

 

Gasping in surprise, Kirby yanked her hand back and dropped her jaw as Fallon pivoted and walked past both her and Sam, making her way out of the foyer and further into the manor.

 

Turning to one another, Sam and Kirby both raised their eyebrows in unison and then glanced back at where Fallon had retreated to.

 

“Someone’s a little high-strung.” Sam commented obviously, glancing at Kirby and then her hand.

 

Her hand didn’t so much as smart - the slap had been all theatrics - but it had still been shocking and Kirby was speechless, if not a little bit amused.

 

Trying not to laugh, she shook her hand out dramatically and caught Sam’s eye with a grin.

 

“You’re weird,” Sam informed her, affectionately. “You two are weird.”

 

He nudged her shoulder with his softly as he passed her, making her laugh softly and then steel herself to track down Fallon.

 

* * *

 

 

Having found the immunization station before she found Fallon, Kirby made her way toward the stairs, set on finding Fallon now that her side task was out of the way.

 

Clutching her (now rather sore) arm with the opposite hand, Kirby used her knee to push Fallon’s unlatched bedroom door open and poke her head inside.

 

“Knock knock?” she called, waiting for a response.

 

Silence.

 

Stepping inside carefully, she looked around as best as she could without _properly_ snooping, but it seemed that Fallon wasn’t hiding - she simply wasn’t there.

 

Fine - if she wanted to play hide and seek all over the manor, so be it. Kirby had always been better at it, anyway.

 

The wine cellar was proved to be a bust - _and_ Kirby could already feel her muscles beginning to grow locked and sore from the vaccine, so the stairs had been a nightmare both up and down.

 

Standing on the back patio and peering out as far as she could see across the gardens didn’t show any sign of Fallon, either, and the staff assured her that her horse was still tied up - not to mention none of the vehicles had moved, either.

 

She _wouldn’t_ have wandered far out the front door, unless she’d been desperate - like, escaping a serial killer desperate - so Kirby ruled out the idea that Fallon had left the grounds altogether.

 

That only left the remainder of the manor.

 

Deciding to get something for the hunt - and her increasingly sore muscles - Kirby wandered back down to the wine cellar and was about to figure out which bottle no one would miss when she heard the telltale buzz of a cell phone nearby.

 

Pausing in her tracks, she waited in silence, and then heard it again, followed by the sound of someone fumbling with fabric and then, again, the buzzing.

 

Stepping out of the cellar, clutching the wine bottle by the neck like a bludgeon, Kirby placed her hand on the wrought-iron handle of the gun room and took a deep breath before slamming the door open.

 

Sitting on the stool at the cleaning station, Fallon was perched and scrolling through her phone, only looking up in alarm, which Kirby assumed had everything to do with her choice of entrance.

 

“What’re you doing in here? Were you planning to barricade yourself in and use a gun to fend off the evil nurses aides?”

 

Fallon lowered her phone slowly, fixing the other woman with a rather scathing faux-confused look.

 

“You thought I was sitting behind this door with a _gun_ and _that_ is how you chose to open the door? Loudly and threateningly, and with no warning?”

 

As Kirby considered this, Fallon stood up from the stool and held her hands up.

 

“I won’t shoot you, but I’m not going up there.”

 

“You’re being a _baby!_ ” Kirby laughed in disbelief, rolling her eyes and rubbing at her sore arm with the back of her wine-holding hand. “You’re going up there, because if you get rabies I’ll have to break up with you. I’ll throw you over my shoulder and take you up there myself if I have to, and then everyone’s going to know what a… _brat_ you’re being.”

 

“Kinky,” Fallon deadpanned, one eyebrow raising in unamusement. “Gonna spank me while you’re at it?”

 

“If you ask nicely.”

 

Rolling her eyes and turning around to go back toward her original spot - carefully putting the cleaning table between the two of them, just in case - Fallon scoffed.

 

“Come on,” Kirby sighed, gesturing widely at the door with her good arm.

 

“What, you thought I was kidding?” Fallon quirked an eyebrow and leaned against the table almost challengingly.

 

“I’m serious, Fallon.”

 

“Oh, you’re _serious_ , why didn’t you say so?”

 

The brunette taunting her was a combination of infuriating and… maybe just a _little_ bit hot. But Kirby knew that she was banking on the latter, and refused to fall into the trap.

 

“Fine. But I’m keeping my distance from you until then. And don’t come crying to me when you get bitten and have to get all four shots instead, because you were too stubborn to just get it _now_.”

 

She turned on her heel to leave, but Fallon made it back around the desk in record time.

 

“Oh, come _on,_ I’m taking a calculated risk. I’m not going to be able to shoot, _or_ ride, _or_ drive properly for _days_ if I get a shot now, and then you’re going to be stuck taking care of me.” Fallon gently slipped one arm around Kirby’s waist from behind her and weaseled the wine bottle from her hand. “ _Or_ we could just stay down here, drink this, and forget this entire thing ever happened. Hm?”

 

Kirby turned around and was momentarily surprised at how close they were. Stepping back a little, if only for her own resolve that she could already feel slipping, she narrowed her eyes.

 

“No,” she pulled the bottle back with her good hand. “This wine is for people who _aren’t_ being big babies about a tiny little shot. So I’m going to go share it with Sam.”

 

“I could hear Sam whining about it from down here,” Fallon deadpanned again.

 

“Sam has tattoos. It was theatrics. You know how he is.” Kirby flapped a hand, holding the bottle further out of Fallon’s reach when she went to grab for it again. Setting it on the ledge behind her, instead, she wrapped both arms around Fallon’s waist and began to quite literally drag her out of the gun room completely.

 

She _writhed_. There was no other word that came to Kirby’s mind as she struggled to keep her grip - the image of snakes in a basket came to her mind, first - but she maintained her lock-armed hug and crossed the doorway into the corridor, getting her bearings to start toward the stairs.

 

The fight that Fallon put up was unlike anything else Kirby had seen from her ever since their last physical altercation, before they had ever become friends. Entirely unlike the heel-dragging that followed whenever Kirby tried to pull her into a store she didn’t care for, or the laughter-filled play-wrestling that occasionally ensued when they had no where else to be in the morning, this was reflexive, and panicky, and that alone made Kirby almost pause what she was doing. That is, until Fallon grabbed her freshly-vaccinated arm.

 

“Aaaahhhh,” Kirby gasped loudly, trailing off in a groan of pain and almost toppling both of them to the floor, “Okay, wait, arm- arm! Truce!”

 

Fallon’s movement had been accidental, scrambling for purchase against the other woman and trying to break free, but when she realized what she’d done, it became intentional.

 

“Are we still going upstairs?” Fallon asked, her voice laced with threat.

 

Kirby glowered at her, “If you do that again, I’m going to tell all the right people that the reason you won’t come forward is because you were _already_ bitten, and you’re _lying_.”

 

“Who are they going to believe?” Fallon scoffed.

 

“I don’t know,” Kirby hummed, “Which one of us took the shot with no complaints?”

 

The two women stared each other down for a moment, and Kirby rubbed her now much more sore arm slowly.

 

“I don’t want… that.” Fallon gestured at her trying to soothe the muscle, her voice suddenly much more defeated. “Or any of it, really.”

 

“I know,” Kirby tried a more sympathetic angle, this time. Clearly nothing else was working. “But it’s for your own good. C’mon.” She held one hand out and moved like she was going to head for the stairs, looking back at Fallon expectantly.

 

She stood rooted to the spot, staring back at Kirby with the most pathetic look she had ever seen in her life.

 

“ _Please_ don’t ask me to go up there.”

 

For a second, her heart broke for her, but she hardened herself and held her hand out more insistently.

 

“Come on. I’m not asking. We’re going. I’ll come with you, it’ll be over before you know it.”

 

Seeing no way out but up, as it were, Fallon sighed in defeat and followed after her, stomping up the stairs and slouching along toward the sitting room as if trying to make sure that every part of her body was as on board with the protest as her mind and words were.

 

“I’m not doing it in here. I get lightheaded.” Fallon announced, causing the remaining staff still lingering around the stations to glance up in her direction. Looking over at one of the available aides quizzically, Kirby gestured after Fallon as she began to walk away again, and the woman quickly followed, bringing a cooler with her.

 

Settled on Fallon’s bed on her other side, Kirby curled up next to her and took her free hand gently in her own, giving her a tiny reassuring smile when she looked over.

 

“Alright so,” the aide began to explain, soaking a piece of gauze in alcohol, “I’m going to get you to take a deep breath in, and then I’ll -”

 

“Ngyaaah --” Fallon jerked away suddenly, gripping Kirby’s hand and startling both her and the aide.

 

“It’s just alcohol,” she spoke softly, although a little slowly - it was clear her patience was already running low.

 

Settling back into her spot, Fallon cleared her throat and handed her arm back over, looking at the cooler curiously. Kirby bit back a tiny smile, watching her - it reminded her of a little kid being nervous at the doctor’s office.

 

“Okay, deep breath in -”

 

Fallon’s eyes shot up to the syringe and widened instantly, turning to look at Kirby instead.

 

The moment the aide steadied Fallon’s arm, she nearly exploded.

 

“ _WAIT!_ ”

 

Everyone froze for a moment, and then Fallon exhaled heavily.

 

“Okay, just do it. _I said do it._ Hang on -” she pulled her arm free to scratch at it for a moment, then handed it back. “Can you give me a countdown? No, wait, just. I’m going to just not watch you do it.”

 

Kirby bit her lip to stifle the grin trying to fight it’s way through. She felt a _little_ sympathetic, but it didn’t make the entire situation any less amusing.

 

“Fallon, you’re making a way bigger deal out of this than you need to be.”

 

Kirby squeezed her free hand softly, unable to help but chuckle.

 

“Look at me and we’ll count to three, okay?”

 

The aide held her arm again, finding her spot and saying slowly, “One -”

 

She immediately administered the vaccination - whether it was just an old trick used to get it over with, with nervous children, or if the woman was just already tired of Fallon, Kirby couldn’t be sure.

 

She expected her to tense, maybe even yell at her, but she hadn’t been at all prepared for the other woman’s eyes to immediately well up - a reaction to the sharp pain, not an emotional reflex - and she all but ripped the bandaid out of the aides hand to put it on herself.

 

Tearing open the paper with her teeth and favouring her arm like she’d broken it, Fallon spat the wrapper onto the bed and leaned away when Kirby tried to reach over to help her apply it. Flicking just her eyes up to the aide as she sealed it over the invisible pin-prick hole, she shook her head.

 

“ _What_ are you still doing here? Go!”

 

The aide snatched up the cooler and walked out, rolling her eyes as she went, and Fallon turned her attention back to Kirby.

 

“ _Lying_ about when she was going to - ? What am I, five years old?”

 

Kirby stared at her for a moment, unsure whether or not it would be wise to recount the events that had just happened, but ultimately chose to bite her tongue.

 

“And I’m _not_ sleeping in your room again.” Fallon snapped, shuffling over in her bed and then climbing down from it, still nursing her arm.

 

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Kirby groaned, getting up herself and moving to follow her. “The bat would have been in the house either way. At least you had me to watch over you while you were sleeping.”

 

“Creepy,” Fallon remarked, watching her as she approached, “That’s creepy.”

 

Kirby gently took Fallon’s arm, pausing to give her a disbelieving look of annoyance when she gasped softly under her breath as if her girlfriend was about to examine a serious injury of hers.

 

“Don’t.” Kirby warned, but the brunette just dropped her gaze, her cheeks immediately turning pink. “Lemme see.”

 

Despite Fallon’s obvious dramatic addition to the whole ordeal, Kirby’s own arm was still aching as well, and she was convinced that Fallon’s likely-high heart rate was probably speeding the process up for her, too. Sympathetic, she was gentle, dipping her head to kiss the spot beside the bandaid before raising her eyes up to meet Fallon’s.

 

“Better?”

 

The brunette rolled her eyes, pulling her arm away carefully and crossing it over the other.

 

“Do I get a lollipop, too? Maybe a sticker?”

 

“Oh,” Kirby scoffed, shaking her head, “No. That’s only if you don’t cry.”

 

“I didn’t cr -!”

 

Before Fallon could even finish her protest, Kirby had let her go and turned to leave the room, laughing all the way down the hall.

 

 

 

Cuddled up with one of Fallon - and one of Fallon’s favourite movies,  _ Now, Voyager -  _ Kirby felt more at peace than she had for the entire hectic week. With the projector hanging across the room from them near the bookcase, they were able to lay down entirely and still see what was happening on-screen, even with the occasional… distraction. 

 

“You’re doing it again,” Kirby mumbled, watching Fallon as intently as she was watching the movie. Fallon stopped mouthing the words along with the dialogue and tilted her head down a little to glance at her girlfriend. 

 

“You’re not watching,” Fallon insisted, tucking two fingers under the other woman’s chin and turning her face gently to look at the screen again. “This is a good part, you’re missing it.”

 

Kirby tucked her face right back into Fallon’s arm the moment she let go of her, staring up at her again. 

 

Fallon chewed her lip between bits of dialogue, her eyes flicking back and forth slightly to take in every detail of each scene as if she were seeing it for the first time. 

 

“Haven’t you seen this like two hundred times?” Kirby asked softly. She didn’t mind Fallon’s choice of entertainment at all, but antagonizing her, even this gently, was always a surefire way to capture her undivided attention immediately. 

 

“I’m  _ trying  _ to see it two hundred and one, but you won’t stop bothering me,” Fallon almost whispered back, turning her head to Kirby but leaving her eyes on the screen. She reached over blindly and prodded at her affectionately, but was only rewarded with a small squirm instead of the giggling reaction she expected. Finally darting her eyes over to look at her, Fallon frowned.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Kirby caught Fallon’s hand when she went to smooth it over where she’d been nudging her and brought it up to her lips, kissing her knuckles before letting it go.

 

“I’m fine,” she assured the brunette. “Just tired.”

 

“Watching a movie was your idea,” Fallon reminded her.

 

“It was a cover,” Kirby whispered dramatically, sitting up just enough to pull the other woman closer and kiss her. 

 

Fallon smiled against her lips, kissing her again and then sliding further down the pillows to pull the other woman closer to her. 

 

“Should we just give up on the movie, then?” She broke away and asked, after feeling Kirby’s hands slide up her waist mid-kiss.

 

Chuckling, the redhead nodded and then grabbed Fallon’s wrist when she went to reach for the remote control.

 

“Leave it. Like I said, it’s a good cover.”

 

* * *

 

 

When they finished, Fallon was out of bed before Kirby even had a chance to kiss her, grabbing her robe from her vanity chair and shrugging it on. 

“Freezing,” she muttered, grabbing the remote next and changing the movie to another favourite. “Are you cold?”

Looking back towards the bed, Fallon snorted and shook her head at the sight of her girlfriend: half naked and sprawled out without a clear care in the world. 

“I feel great,” she replied with a grin, “I’ll warm you up if you get back here, though.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Fallon shot her a smirk before wandering over to the fireplace and fiddling with the fresh air intake for a moment.

“What’re you doing?” Kirby’s voice was alert, now, and Fallon looked back again to see her suddenly sitting upright at the head of the bed. 

“... Lighting a fire? I said I was cold.”

“We’re about to sleep, just get an extra blanket.” Kirby got up, now, wandering over and reaching up to push the matches along the mantle before Fallon could grab them.

“What’re you -  _ stop _ .” She grabbed for the box of matches more deliberately, now, snatching them up and pulling one out. “It’ll put itself out, I know how to work a fireplace, Kirby.”

“Okay,” the redhead stood back, hands up in surrender before she crossed the room to pick her discarded clothing up from the floor around the bed. “I want a kiss goodnight, though.”

“What,” Fallon whirled around, still holding the unlit match. “You’re leaving, now?”

“Yeah, I said I was fine, I don’t want to be too hot if you’re going to have the fireplace going.”

“Are you serious, right now?”

“Yeah,” Kirby’s voice was clipped, now. Edgy. She forced a quick little tight smile, as if trying to reassure her that she wasn’t upset with her, and then began to pull her sweater over her head. “I’m leaving because it’ll be hot. And I’m fine already.”

She was running in circles with her train of thought, and Fallon narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

“We could both sleep in my room, if you want. It’s warmer. And then I won’t be  _ too _ hot.” Kirby’s speed of voice had multiplied, and continued to grow faster the more she spoke. 

“Kirby, stop,” Fallon tried to cut her off, but she didn’t stop.

“It’s fucking drafty in here, anyway. I don’t know how you sleep in the winter. You know leaving your fire going all night is just going to dry you out, right?”

Fallon raised an eyebrow and struck the match against the side of the box.

“Besides, your room  _ literally  _ burned down and -” 

Kirby fell silent instantly, watching Fallon’s face as she backed toward the fireplace. The two women locked eyes as Fallon held her arm out, watching Kirby grow more and more tense as she drew closer and closer to dropping the match into the kindling. 

“Huh.” Fallon nodded slowly to herself, raising her eyebrows and then bringing the match up to her face, blowing it out with a quick exhale. 

Kirby seemed to unwind as the smoke floated into the air and vanished between them - and then she took a deep breath, and continued to ramble. 

“I’m going back to my room, now. We’ll have a sleepover tomorrow night. Okay?”

Fallon simply stared at her, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

As Kirby started to ramble again, this time about the benefits of keeping all of the fresh air vents closed to remain warm at night, Fallon pulled out a second match and struck it to life in the same movement, letting out a small acknowledging sound when Kirby immediately fell quiet once more. 

“Okay,” Fallon backed up properly and flung the match into the kindling. The pause between them was thick before the fire sizzled to life and began crackling softly. “Are we going to talk about this, or do you want me to let you go back to your room alone and just… I don’t know. Whatever this is. Pout, I guess.” 

“That seems a little hypocritical,” Kirby muttered, crossing her arms defensively, but her eyes were barely focusing on Fallon, instead looking at the fire behind her. 

“I tell you everything, Kirby,” Fallon’s voice was soft around the edges, but still firm. The conversation was happening, one way or another. She crossed her arms, and then added, “I mean… sometimes it might take me a minute to get it out, but… I still tell you.”

Kirby looked at her properly and found herself immediately searching her face for something - a sign of mocking, maybe? Or worse, pity. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but there was nothing of the sort there - just Fallon’s curious, if not concerned face. 

“I don’t like sleeping with the fireplace going,” she admitted, dropping her gaze and crossing her arms across her chest. “And I can’t believe that you do, either, considering your family’s history with fires in general. I -  _ sorry. _ ”

Her eyes flicked up to Fallon’s face to see if her apology had landed, but Fallon’s expression hadn’t changed.

“What else?” The question was more of a demand - Fallon barely even blinked, her arms remaining crossed across her own chest. 

“Nothing else.” Kirby went to step closer to her, but changed her mind and decided to grab her by the biceps softly and pull her closer to herself instead. 

Fallon reluctantly took a few steps closer, still keeping her eyes locked on the other woman’s, searching for a sign of weakness. 

“You sleep in here,” Fallon spoke much more softly, now. “I’ll get an extra blanket instead.”

“Okay,” Kirby’s voice was barely above a whisper, embarrassed. 

“Thank you for telling me the truth.”

Fallon turned away as Kirby went to climb back into the bed and the redhead froze as if she’d been doused in cold water. 

Fallon said nothing, shutting the vents on the fireplace and using one of the pokers to knock a heavier log onto the miniature fire she’d just built. 

She  _ had  _ to have known, Kirby decided, that there was more - and not only did she know that there was more prodding to do, but she was going to do it right then and there, or torture her with quiet, guilt-driven remarks for the rest of time until she finally cracked. 

The room was suddenly filled with the very faint scent of wood smoke, not helping to lull Kirby into a more comfortable state as she tossed her sweater aside again and buried herself under the covers. 

Fallon joined her quietly, slipping an arm across her waist.

“Goodnight,” was all she said, immediately closing her eyes and tucking herself against the other woman’s side. 

 

* * *

 

 

Fallon stirred, abruptly aware of the fact that her dream - whatever it had been, she had already forgotten - had melted into real life, and suddenly she was awake. 

“Hey, when did you wake up?” Fallon stretched a little, reaching over and sliding her hand flat across her girlfriend’s stomach to the opposite side of her waist, using her like an anchor to drag herself closer to her.

Kirby just made a noncommittal noise, turning to look at Fallon properly and frowning a little. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Fallon’s face morphed into one of guilt, just for a moment, and it surprised Kirby - but then, much more expectedly, it looked suddenly faux-concerned. 

“What’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?”

_ There  _ it was. 

“It smells like smoke in here,” she admitted.

Fallon sat up, sniffling a little and glancing around before her eyes landed on the clock.

“It doesn’t. And I put that out hours ago.” Fallon turned to look down at Kirby again, frowning much more genuinely. “Have you not gone to sleep yet?”

Kirby shook her head very minutely.

“I can still smell it.”

Fallon watched her for a moment, and Kirby almost expected her to argue, or tell her to suck it up, but she did neither. Instead, she slipped out of the bed and came around to Kirby’s side, passing her and going to open up the closest window. 

“Tell me if you get too cold, okay?” Fallon approached her side of the bed, first, her voice as soft as fur, and leaned over to kiss her forehead. Slipping quietly back into her own side of the covers, she turned on her side and scooted back to press her back to Kirby, reaching back and pulling one of her arms around herself.

“I don’t…” Kirby paused, and she felt Fallon tense up in anticipation for what she was going to say. “I don’t like sleeping in here with the fireplace going -”

“I know, you’ve said.” Fallon mumbled, her voice half-muffled by her pillow. 

“- I was going to say, I don’t like sleeping in here with the fireplace going, and I don’t like that you do it, either, when I’m not here.”

The pause was so deafening and heavy that Kirby thought Fallon had accidentally passed out while she was talking to her. But then, quietly, the other woman mumbled a small “ _ Oh”  _ under her breath.

She rolled partly onto her back, nearly pushing Kirby back with the movement, and looked up over her shoulder at her.

“You’re sweet. I don’t think I tell you that a lot.”

“You don’t,” Kirby chuckled, her voice sounding relieved now that the tension had been broken. “You’re sweet too.”

“Well don’t tell anyone.”

That drew a soft, exasperated chuckle from her, and she leaned in to kiss Fallon’s temple once before the woman settled into her spot again. 

“I wouldn’t. Then everyone would want a piece and I’d never have any time with you for myself.”

“The horror,” Fallon whispered dramatically, “Having a  _ sweet _ , popular, well-liked, brilliant, lovable girlfriend.”

“You really filled in a lot of blanks, there,” Kirby pointed out, using the hand that was wrapped around Fallon’s waist to trace a trail back and forth from her wrist to the crook of her elbow. The sensation drew a happy shiver out of her, and she seemed to melt into the bed in relaxation. 

“But it’s true.” Kirby took a deep breath, but like almost every other decision she’d made so far in her life, dove in before she could let herself think too hard. “I do love you.”

It was less dread, and much more guilt that washed over Kirby the moment the words left her mouth. She knew  _ very  _ well what had happened even just in the last year to make Fallon take things as slow and comfortably as they had, and while she meant what she said, it wasn’t ideal timing - even if she hadn’t meant it the way that the other woman had been so tired of hearing.

“I don’t -” she cleared her throat softly. “You don’t have to say it back. But… it doesn’t have to… be like  _ that.  _ I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I’ve felt like that since before… all of this. So I love you. But - like a friend?”

Fallon laughed outright. One of Kirby’s favourite sounds, and one she rarely got to hear in its entirety, it made her feel immediately bubbly. Butterflies, as cliche as it was, were fluttering around inside of her instantly, and she found herself burying her grin into Fallon’s hair to try to maintain some composure.

“You love me as a  _ friend _ ? Ouch.” Fallon mocked, when she finally had her laughter under control.

“Well!” Kirby whined, though it was ruined by the grin that refused to leave her face. “I didn’t want to pressure you!”

Fallon rolled onto her back fully and gave the other woman a mock-unamused look.

“This is the worst ‘I love you’ I’ve ever gotten, and I had a guy cry after prom sex and tell me that he’d die without me.”

Now it was Kirby’s turn to laugh, but she immediately stifled it.

“Well I won’t do all of that, but I can start crying after sex if it’ll make you feel more alpha female.”

“Please don’t.”

The unreturned ‘I love you’ hung in the air between them for a moment, but Kirby felt lighter, and unbothered.

“Can we please go back to sleep now?” Fallon reached up and brushed a thumb over the other woman’s cheek. Her question was playfully impatient but the look in her eyes was still filled with leftover concern.

Kirby nodded once, leaning down to kiss her properly once more.

“Yes. I think I just needed fresh air. And to get that off of my chest.” She gave her one more tiny kiss and then grinned. “And you.”

Fallon rolled her eyes with a dramatic groan and rolled away again, sprawling out in her own side of the bed. “Disgusting. What did I tell you about the corniness?”

“Goodnight, Fallon.”

“Goodnight. And I love you, too.”

 


End file.
